


yule come around

by mixtapestar



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Beast (The Magicians), Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Public Sex, Rimming, encanto oculto, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28563426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mixtapestar/pseuds/mixtapestar
Summary: It's a blessing and a curse when Eliot invites Quentin to Encanto Oculto with him over the winter holidays.
Relationships: Eliot Waugh/Original Character(s), Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh, Quentin Coldwater/Original Character(s)
Comments: 42
Kudos: 125
Collections: Peaches and Plums Stockings 2020





	yule come around

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hoko_onchi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoko_onchi/gifts), [Rubick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubick/gifts).



> Hoko & Rubi - you are the lights of my life. I love you both dearly, and so I gift to you my most ridiculous, heartfelt Idiots to Lovers fic. I hope you don't mind sharing a giftfic - I truly imbued this story with elements I know you both love. Please enjoy with an extra heart emoji from me: 💜.
> 
> Huge shout out to jessalae, whose beta reading services made this fic at least three times better than it would've been.

By the time Quentin finishes his first semester at Brakebills, his brain is fried. As much as loves discovering a world full of magic and wonder, he needs a break from it. At least from campus, where he's constantly reminded that he's one plain-ass fish in a sea of magicians, not the big fish in a small pond that he'd been in school the rest of his life.

He's also horny as fuck. His relationship with Alice had barely lasted three weeks before they both realized they were exactly the wrong kind of compatible, feeding each other's flaws instead of their better qualities. And he hasn't had much luck otherwise, too busy pining for his closest friend while the man in question goes after every guy that isn't him. Not that Quentin's bitter about it.

Which is why it feels like a blessing and a curse when Eliot invites Quentin to Encanto Oculto with him over the winter holidays.

"I thought that was a couple months ago. Didn't you and Margo go there while we were at South?"

"We did," Eliot says. "Think of it like a theme park. It's always open, there are always… _attractions_ , but sometimes there are special events that make it even more appealing."

Quentin laughs, picturing Epcot with people banging everywhere. He's maybe secretly fantasized about getting jerked off on one of the dark rides, so he can see it. "What special event is going on now?"

"They have a big to-do for the solstice. Lots of dancing and bonfires. And plenty of temperature-controlled areas where clothing is optional."

Quentin nods, something stirring in his chest. Everything he's heard about Encanto Oculto sounds super intimidating, but he could definitely do with a weekend of getting laid. And if the mood of 'no regrets' holds true, he might actually get a chance to try something with Eliot with no consequences.

"Yeah, alright. Sounds fun," Quentin says, thrilling at the pleased look Eliot shoots his way.

Almost too soon, though actually a couple of days later, he and Eliot are stepping through the portal, walking past hundreds of people in various states of undress and intimacy to check in to their hotel. The room that they're sharing has two beds with an optional privacy ward between them, which will allow them to bring back partners without disturbing each other. Quentin kind of loves and hates that. If he comes back to find the wards up, he's gonna go crazy wondering what's happening next to him, where he can't see or hear. But it's probably for the best.

They spend their day of arrival taking it easy. They make a first stop at the bar in their hotel before Eliot gives him a tour, pointing out the areas of the beach that have climate control, where—depending on the zone—clothing is either optional or discouraged. Brighter zones (mostly neon greens and yellows) mean less inhibitions and less rules, as a general rule, while darker zones (warm reds and purples) are more tame. They move into the main hub, where things seem to be kept PG-13, which matches up with the dark red banners, and Eliot comes back from the check-in desk with watches for both of them. "This helps you keep track of the rules for the area you're in, and also keeps track of your purchases. Fill out your profile first, and you'll be able to see auras around other people's watches if they're theoretically a match for you. They're completely waterproof, magic-proof, everything, so don't worry about any of that. Just don't lose it; we can't afford the replacement fee."

"How do I know if I can afford my 'purchases'?" Quentin asks. From what he's seen so far, everything is offered pretty openly, without price tags. At their hotel bar, Eliot had accepted a poker chip in lieu of a bill that he must have transferred to their account at the desk.

Eliot smirks. "If it's something you can get at home, it's almost certainly included in what we've already paid for. But if you're looking at more complex magical drugs? Maybe ask me first."

Quentin swallows, wondering what 'complex magical drugs' entail. But he just nods, putting the watch on. He fills out his profile, which is impressively thorough, asking about kinks he's never even considered before. Mostly he sticks to vanilla stuff, since this is his first visit, and marks that he's open to all genders. Once he's done, he can see a bright green aura around Eliot's watch, and looking around, he sees the difference, some auras brighter than others, and some simply blank. That certainly helps things.

That night, they drink and dance by the bonfire, in one of the dark-shaded clothing-optional areas that seems pretty tame. Since the banners are harder to see at night, the area is lit up by dancing purple lights in dark shades, interspersed among the white fairy lights scattered throughout the whole event space. Eliot 'helps' Quentin find a girl to ask to dance, a pretty redhead with her hair braided who laughs at his dorky jokes and pulls him into a heated kiss after just one dance. Quentin's heart is already racing as they move together, their bodies pressing close, her hands slipping under his shirt. He also can't help noticing everyone around them, some far less inhibited than others, groping each other pretty obviously as they dance. After a few dances, his redheaded friend thanks him for his time, shooting him a wink before disappearing into the night. Quentin didn't even get her name.

He's a little bit turned on as he heads back to the bar, but he's trying not to think about it. As he waits for his martini, he sweeps his eyes through the clearing, looking for Eliot. He's easy to spot, a magical flower crown lit up on his head, reflecting off his sheer blue solstice robe as he dances shirtless with a muscled blonde guy. They're too far away for Quentin to make out the details, but they seem into each other. Quentin wonders if the wards will be up when he gets to their room later.

A cute guy with tousled black hair joins him at the bar, striking up a conversation and introducing himself as Charlie. They drink together and comment on all the hot people, which seems to be the go-to small talk for Encanto.

After they finish their drinks, Charlie asks Quentin to dance, which turns out to be a pretense to make out and rub up against each other, not that Quentin's complaining. Quentin likes how Charlie touches him, like he's grateful for the privilege and intends to prove himself worthy.

"D'you wanna go back to my room?" Quentin asks, his breathing a little labored.

Charlie shrugs. "I don't mind staying here, if you're not too shy to get jerked off in public."

Quentin swallows. No, he doesn't think that he is. "C'mon, I think I see a good spot by the big tree."

The ground is cushioned here, as it turns out. Quentin has to wonder what upkeep is like for a place like this, how often the magic has to be reapplied. Magical Epcot with people banging everywhere, indeed. Charlie strips him out of his shirt and loses his own as well as they continue to make out, with Charlie's hand rubbing purposefully over Quentin's cock. By the time Charlie works Quentin's fly open, pulling his dick out through the slit of his boxers, he's already fully hard and leaking. He doesn't think he'll last long as Charlie performs the spell to slick up his hand and grips him.

"Oh, that's good," Quentin says, sinking into the pleasure of Charlie's hand and the warmth of the fire. _Damn_ , he could get used to this. No wonder Eliot visits at every opportunity. He mutters encouragingly as Charlie continues to stroke him.

He doesn't mean to, but his eyes scan the crowd again as he starts to feel close, pleasure building in the base of his spine. A couple people are watching—not many, but he feels incredibly sexy to see their flushed faces and their eyes on him. And then he spots Eliot, his dance partner rubbing up against him, but Eliot's focus is entirely on Quentin.

Quentin moans, feeling the heat of Eliot's gaze, and bucks up into Charlie's fist as his orgasm slams through him. He keeps his eyes on Eliot as Charlie strokes him through it, kissing his shoulder. Charlie is being incredibly sweet and gentle with him, and Quentin feels a little guilty for completely ignoring him.

"You want me to suck you off?" Quentin says, tearing his gaze away from Eliot.

Charlie's eyes brighten. "I think we'd have to move to the next zone over for that, but I'm into it if you are."

Quentin feels a little stab of disappointment that if they move, Eliot won't get to watch, but he squashes that right back down. He's not doing this because of Eliot. He lets Charlie help him up, and hand-in-hand they head over to the next bonfire, where the lights are a medium blue.

It doesn't take long for Charlie to come once Quentin gets his mouth on him, but Quentin can't fault him for that—there really is an abundance of turn-ons everywhere here. Charlie kisses him deeply after, then makes a point to let Quentin know he'd be down for another round if they run into each other again. And just like that he's gone. Quentin wonders if anyone actually exchanges information here, or if it's all left up to chance.

He feels pretty spent after that, so he goes back to the hotel, grabbing a drink at the bar before heading up to their room. Eliot's not back yet, which is no surprise. He's probably having some public sex of his own, or maybe even heading back to short and stocky's room.

He tries to read for a while, but his mind keeps wandering back to Eliot's expression as he'd watched Quentin come. Had there been real interest there, or just curiosity? It feels like forever ago when his friendship was first building with Eliot, when he thought there had been genuine interest there. But nothing came of it, and he thought he might have something real with Alice instead. That too fizzled quickly. Ever since, he's wondered if he'd just imagined that initial interest, or if maybe he'd fucked it up. This trip could be a new opportunity, but does it really matter, if they have to go back to normal after all this anyway?

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knows, he's blinking his eyes open to Eliot entering the room, shirtless, with his solstice robe only resting on his shoulders. Quentin holds himself still as he waits to see if anyone will follow, but when Eliot closes the door, Quentin sits up. "Mm, hey El," he says, yawning. "Have fun?"

Eliot chuckles. "You could say that. I certainly showed somebody else some fun." He tosses his robe down and drops down onto his bed with a happy sigh. "You?"

"Yeah, it's been good. Thank you for bringing me along."

Eliot gazes over at him, eyes dancing. "You certainly took to it better than I expected. You actually got off before I did, which is impressive."

Quentin blushes, but he refuses to feel shy about this, not here. "Beginner's luck, probably."

Eliot stretches his arms above his head, groaning. Quentin watches the play of his muscles with interest. "God, I'm exhausted. You staying up for a while? I think I'm gonna wait to shower in the morning."

"Apparently I was pretty tired too," Quentin says, finding his book where it'd dropped to the floor, "so no. I'll brush my teeth and then I can turn out the light."

Eliot hums, already slipping under the covers. "'Mkay. G'night, Q."

***

The next morning, Eliot gifts Quentin with a tiny neon green pill. Quentin raises his eyebrows. "Is this one of those 'extra charge' drugs you warned me about?"

Eliot grins. "It is, but don't worry, it's on me. Happy Solstice. It's pretty powerful; a combination of aphrodisiacs and other magic that'll let you get off satisfyingly several times in a row throughout the day. Wait to take it until you're about to hook up with somebody. It takes effect refreshingly fast."

Quentin wants to go swimming, so they head to the nearby pool, where Quentin is eventually propositioned by a lovely curvy lady with long, dark hair. He doesn't have to check her wrist to know they're a match. Quentin takes the pill before he goes down on her, and he can feel it working as he gets hard just from her reactions. By the time she comes, pulling on his hair just right, he's practically rutting into the beach chair.

"Ooh, you are a delight," she says, practically purring. "Come back up here so I can kiss you." Quentin does, happily, gasping into her mouth as she reaches into his swimsuit and starts stroking his dick. "Want me to suck you off?" she offers, and Quentin whines.

"I, _ahh_ —I'm actually really close? If you could just, yeah, _faster—_ " he says desperately, rutting into her hand, coming so fast and so hard his vision whites out for a moment.

Eliot finds him not long after that—where had he gone off to, anyway?—and they agree to take a break for lunch. "You didn't _tell me_ I was gonna go off like a _bottle rocket_ when I took that pill," Quentin complains as soon as they're out of earshot from anyone else.

Eliot grins. "Just the first time. You'll be able to make the next one last, don't worry."

It's nice, spending the time with Eliot, eating together and passing the time like they do back home. Quentin asks Eliot for advice on what classes to take next semester, and Eliot regales him with stories of his own mishaps in Weather Manipulation. They also enjoy the entertainment provided by a group of magicians in the center of the room, who use translocation and nature magic to make the plants in the room dance and flow through the space.

By the time they move on to dessert, Quentin suspects the pill is working its magic again. He can't stop staring at Eliot's mouth as he talks, eats, licks whipped cream from his fingers. He decides he isn't hungry anymore, and that they should probably head back out.

Eliot clearly doesn't understand, because he keeps _talking_ , taking his time with his last few bites. It doesn't make sense; he _knows_ Eliot took the same pill. By the time Eliot swallows his last bite, Quentin is feeling a little stir crazy. He rubs his hand over his cock, heedless of the fact that Eliot will see him do it. " _Fuck_ , that pill made me so horny."

Eliot smirks. "You wanna go dancing in one of the clothing discouraged areas? Bet it won't take long for you to catch someone's eye."

He keeps rubbing; he can't help it, _fuck_. "Yeah, okay. Good idea."

"How bright of a zone should we look for?" Eliot asks casually, leading the way. Quentin tries not to stare at his ass.

"Bright," Quentin says. He wants to see people fucking, being fucked, loving it. _Oh god_ , he really wants to be fucked right now.

If Eliot finds his answer unusual, he doesn't comment on it. They enter an area marked with the brightest of greens, and sure enough, there are plenty of people here already engaged in some pretty serious fucking.

Quentin doesn't waste any time, ditching his swimsuit by the beach chairs and going up to the first hot guy with a bright green watch that catches his attention, a dark-skinned guy with bleached hair who introduces himself as Noah.

Noah doesn't miss a beat as Quentin dives in immediately to kiss him, and yeah, maybe Quentin sought him out partially because he was noticeably half-hard. Noah reaches for his hips, and Quentin does the same, the two of them grinding against each other barely a minute after meeting.

"You're adorable," Noah says, tilting his head back as Quentin goes to kiss his neck. "Want me to suck you off?"

"Yes, _please_ ," Quentin says. They find a shady spot, where Quentin can sit back against a half-wall that—sure enough—is charmed to be as soft as a pillow. _Fuck_ , he loves it here.

Noah takes his time with Quentin's dick, getting it nice and wet with his tongue before sinking his mouth down over him. Quentin sighs happily as Noah sucks on him. The urgency from last time is gone, leaving him feeling pleasantly warm and liquid, like he could sit here all day in a permanent state of contented pleasure.

Suddenly, Quentin hears the sound of a pair making out loudly, coming closer, and he opens his eyes to see Eliot settling in next to him, pulling a guy down with him with a slight build and long brown hair. He watches Eliot's new guy lick at Eliot's dick enthusiastically until he realizes Noah has pulled off and said something to him. "I'm sorry, what?"

Noah smirks. "I asked, would it be alright if I finger you too?"

Quentin moans, relishing the thought. That's at least in the realm of what he really wants right now. He feels Eliot shift next to him. _God_ , he's about to get fingered and sucked off while Eliot listens and potentially watches. "Yeah, I'd um, I'd like that."

Noah levitates a towel over, folding it and sliding it under Quentin's hips. He's incredibly aware of the noises he's making as Noah works a finger inside him, especially since he can hear every gasp and grunt coming from Eliot as his partner swallows him down. It feels so good, though, and even better when Noah sinks his mouth down onto Quentin's cock again, sucking over him rhythmically as he slides his finger inside of Quentin.

"I can take another," Quentin murmurs, trying not to sound needy. Luckily, Noah obliges him without hesitation, sliding in with two fingers so that Quentin can feel a pleasant stretch. "Yeah, _fuck_."

He can feel Eliot's eyes on him, and he lets his head loll to the side so he can get a better look. Eliot smiles once he knows he has Quentin's attention. "They're really good, aren't they? Going down on us like this? Zach here was a little intimidated at first, but he's got nothing to worry about." The guy—Zach—moans over Eliot's dick. Quentin can understand; he'd love to hear that he's doing well too, in the same situation.

Quentin gasps as Noah's fingers find his prostate, and Eliot's eyes fall to his lips. "Noah is uh," he pauses, feeling awkward, "he's really good too."

"Mm," Eliot says, looming that little bit closer. Quentin's lips part of their own accord.

Before he can register the movement, Eliot has closed the distance between them, capturing Quentin's lips with his own and kissing him heatedly. Quentin whines and kisses back, unable to get much closer from his current position but straining his neck to do what he can. Eliot seems to get it, as he breaks the kiss and urges Zach over a few inches, scooting closer.

"You're…" Quentin begins, but finds his mind blank, unable to finish the sentence. His heart is beating wildly in his chest. He's kissed so many people in the past two days—only three people, actually, but that's way above average compared to Quentin's normal weekends—but those were just kisses. This, with Eliot, this is more than a fleeting press of lips, even if they're both getting off with someone else at the same time. He's imagined kissing Eliot a fair few times, but even in his wildest fantasies, he didn't do justice to just how much passion Eliot could pour into a single kiss. It's absurd given their situation, and Quentin would never admit this out loud, but the way Eliot's kissing him makes him feel like they're the only two people on the beach.

"Yeah," Eliot belatedly agrees with whatever Quentin was going to say, making Quentin grateful that they're at least nonsensically on board together, as he moves back in at a more comfortable angle. Eliot's tongue slips inside his mouth, and Quentin curls his own tongue against it, moaning as Noah works his cock deeper into his throat, continuing to finger-fuck him. It's all too much, and not enough; he's so turned on, but his head's a mess.

 _Fuck it_. This is supposed to be a weekend of no regrets, right? Quentin tears his mouth away from Eliot's long enough to say, " _More_ , I wanna feel full when you make me come," and then he turns back, reaching out to cup Eliot's jaw as he kisses him hungrily.

Eliot makes a sound not unlike a growl, and his hand slides around the back of Quentin's neck a moment later. Quentin had thought their kiss was heated before, but this one is scorching, Eliot's tongue fucking into his mouth like he's got something to prove. Noah grants his request, three fingers sliding into him now, and yeah, _yes_ , this is what he wanted. He barely breaks the kiss to call out a warning to Noah when he's close, and Eliot moans when he moves immediately back into the kiss.

He whimpers into Eliot's mouth when he comes, savoring the warm heat of Noah's mouth as he swallows around him. Quentin feels _good_ , pleasantly warm, even when Noah moves away.

Free to move now, Quentin sits up and turns his body further into Eliot's, pressing up against his side. Eliot whines into the kiss and gives a tug on Zach's hair, which Quentin feels more than sees. Eliot's breath comes shorter, his kiss a little more desperate, until he sighs contentedly and relaxes.

He feels Zach move away, and he thinks maybe Zach and Noah say something to each other before heading off together, but it's hard to focus when Eliot is pulling him closer— _god_ , into his _lap_ —and kissing over his face, across his jaw, down to his neck.

" _Fuck_ , El," Quentin says breathlessly. He's still incredibly turned on, almost feeling like he could go again already. "I dunno where you got that pill, but it's legit."

"Hoberman, before we left," Eliot says, pulling back so that Quentin can look at him properly for the first time since he'd sat down next to him. "I wouldn't trust just anyone with sex drugs."

Eliot's expression is amused, but Quentin's chest constricts as their eyes meet. No matter how nonchalant Eliot is acting, Quentin can see in his eyes that something has shifted. He just hopes like hell it's shifted in a good way.

Quentin leans back in, tentative, and is relieved a mere second later when Eliot meets him in the middle. He could make out with Eliot forever, the plushness of his lips so perfect against Quentin's own. It's all so captivating, the way he holds onto Quentin like he's something precious, the way he breathes in sharply when Quentin's hands touch his chest.

Quentin pulls back, taking a second to catch his breath. He swallows, and after another _fuck it_ moment, says, "I'm still really hard. D'you wanna…?"

"Yes," Eliot says immediately. "What do you want, Q?"

Quentin brings his eyes up to Eliot's. "Fuck me."

Eliot swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing as he stares back at Quentin. For his part, Quentin doesn't back down, even if inside his head he's panicking a little. Okay, a lot. But Eliot has mercy on him, grabbing him by the back of the neck and growling, " _Fuck_ yeah," against his lips before kissing him again, filthily.

Quentin is panting again by the time they pull away. He reaches for Eliot's dick, fascinated by how big it looks in his hand. _Fuck_ , he can't wait to have Eliot inside him. "I've already had the prep. Do you want me on my back, or hands and knees?"

" _God_ , Q. You're gonna kill me."

"I think hands and knees is probably better here," he says, eyeing the way the mats are spread out. He thinks Eliot can probably get in _deep_ like that. Fuck, he wants to feel him so bad.

"Slow down, Q," Eliot says, laughing. "I know Hoberman's shit is strong, but I promise you aren't going to explode if you don't get off again right this second."

Quentin looks back at him, bewildered. This has nothing to do with getting off. Well, okay. But it's not _just_ about getting off. It's more about the opportunity to _finally_ try something he's always been too scared to ask for, for fear of ruining what he has with Eliot. Because what happens at the sex festival stays at the sex festival, right?

"I just want you inside me," Quentin says, uncaring of the whine in his voice.

Eliot pulls him in closer, one arm around his back, and his other hand sliding down to squeeze his ass. Quentin rests his head on Eliot's shoulder and tries to calm down. Eliot wants to go slow; they can go slow. Eliot's voice is nearly a whisper as he speaks against Quentin's ear. "And to think, I was so sure you were straight before this weekend."

"Wait, what?" Quentin says, sitting back in Eliot's hold to stare at him. "Seriously?"

Eliot nods. "I thought the watches weren't working when it showed us as a match."

"You could have just _asked_ me," Quentin says, rolling his eyes. Is this why Eliot has never followed through on their long, torturous flirtation? Could they have been hooking up this whole time?

Eliot purses his lips. "I don't exactly have the best history with asking straight boys outright about their sexual orientation. Always seems to work out better to let them come to me."

"Well, I'm here," Quentin says, squirming in his lap.

Eliot laughs delightedly, massaging his hand over Quentin's ass. "Yes, you are."

They kiss again, and _damn_ , Eliot is a great kisser. By the time Eliot is pulling away, softly saying, "Bend over for me," he's already so hard it hurts.

He strokes himself as Eliot slides two slick fingers inside him, moaning when he glides over his prostate. "Fuck, El, that's good. C'mon, I don't need much prep. I'm ready now."

Noah's fingers had been nice, but he can feel the difference with Eliot's long fingers sliding into him. He can't imagine how good his cock is gonna feel. The stretch of two—now three fingers is already heady, making him feel lightheaded with pleasure. "You're not ready until I say you're ready," Eliot says, and Quentin shudders at the gravity of his voice.

"You're such a fucking tease," Quentin grouses, shoving himself back onto Eliot's fingers and smiling to himself when Eliot gasps.

"Steady," Eliot says, curling his other hand over Quentin's hip. Oh yeah, that's nice, the grip of him holding Quentin in place. "I know you know how to be good. Patient. I've seen you hooking up this weekend, always polite, never demanding. Is this brattiness just for me?"

"All of my other partners gave me what I asked for," Quentin says, enjoying the back-and-forth. He doesn't feel as desperate as he's acting, but it's so fun to wind Eliot up. And truthfully, he's _loving_ the fact that Eliot seems to have been watching him so closely for the past two days.

"Hmm," Eliot says, squeezing at his hip. "Let's talk when all this is over about whether or not you got what you asked for." A molten heat spreads through Quentin as he feels Eliot slide in with what _must_ be four fingers, _god_ , it's such an amazing stretch. That combined with the promising timbre of Eliot's voice has him wired with anticipation.

He goes very still when Eliot pulls his hand back, and moments later, the blunt head of his cock nudges against Quentin's entrance.

"Promise you'll tell me if it's too much?" Eliot says seriously. "I don't want to hurt you."

Quentin exhales steadily. "I will."

Eliot shifts around behind him, smoothing a hand over his back and then— _Oh_. That first push is _a lot_ , but so good once the head of Eliot's cock slips inside and Eliot moans, _loudly_ , leaning forward and grabbing onto Quentin's shoulder. Quentin breathes heavily through his nose, gradually relaxing, urging Eliot to push in further.

 _Fuck_. Quentin's never been fucked by someone this big, and it's _wonderful_ —the drag of it as Eliot works his hips minutely, helping him get used to the stretch, and _god_ , Quentin thinks he's only halfway inside.

Eliot's grip is less ironclad on his shoulder now, more of a leverage point as he pulls out, nearly all the way, and pushes back in. "Oh yeah," Quentin breathes out, clenching around the slide of him. "More, I can take more."

"Greedy," Eliot says, and the breathless, heated sound of the one word and the laugh that follows has Quentin's chest clenching.

It's been so long since Quentin's been truly, properly fucked. The last time with an actual person instead of his favorite toy had been so mediocre that he hasn't tried in a while. But _god_ , he's missed it. The feeling of fullness, the pleasant burn in his thighs as he moves with his partner.

And all of this with _Eliot_ , who Quentin has been fantasizing about since his first day—his first _minute_ at Brakebills. His gorgeous best friend who has always seemed lightyears out of his league. But here they are, Eliot's possessive hands moving over him, making him feel inarguably wanted. Eliot's getting in deeper with every thrust, making Quentin cry out with every drag over his prostate, until he can't speak for fear that it'll come out as a sob. He's been wanting this for _so long_ , he hadn't even realized.

And _fuck_ , the punched-out sigh that comes from Eliot the moment he pushes fully into Quentin, so that he can feel his balls against his ass, hits him with another wave of emotion. He really has all of Eliot, and he rolls his hips a little, making Eliot whine and pitch forward to lean against his back.

Quentin swallows a few times before attempting to speak. "Feels so good," he says. Eliot wraps his arms around his chest. "C'mon, fuck me. Let me feel you."

It's a slightly absurd statement, as he's done nothing _but_ feel him since their other partners walked away, and even before that. But Eliot seems to get it, breathing heavily against his ear for a moment before inching out, moaning as he slams back in, and _yeah_ , _fuck_ , finally going for it just the way Quentin wants.

He feels surrounded by Eliot, the musky scent of his sweat undeniable as he holds Quentin against his chest and fucks him _so good_. Quentin's cock is leaking steadily onto the mat, aching to be touched, but Quentin doesn't want to break this perfect rhythm. He holds out as long as he can before gasping out, "Touch me, _please_ ," and Eliot's hand is there in a moment. Quentin gasps as Eliot's fingers gather the wetness at his tip, moving down his shaft to get him nice and wet before gripping him and starting to stroke in time with Eliot's thrusts. Quentin turns his head to whine into his shoulder. It's unbelievable, how Eliot knows exactly what he needs.

"You gonna come for me?" Eliot asks as soon as Quentin feels close, and Quentin wonders briefly what gave him away. "Gonna clench down this perfect ass over me when you come on my cock? _Fuck_ , Q. I wanna feel it. Come for me."

"Oh _fuck_ ," Quentin cries, stretching the word out as his orgasm punches through him and Eliot strokes him through it. Eliot pushes into him, moaning, holding him tight up against his chest. He focuses on the sound of his own breathing, and of Eliot's next to his ear, to ground himself in reality. His whole body feels amazing, either because of the drug, or because that's just how good it is with Eliot. Maybe both.

"Your turn," Quentin says, after a moment to collect himself. He rolls his hips, drawing a whine from Eliot. "You can stay inside me. I don't mind the way it feels." He fucking _loves_ the way it feels, but he doesn't have to admit that to Eliot. He also doesn't indulge in it often, even with magical protection spells.

"Fuck, Q, you feel amazing. Mind if I move you a little?"

Quentin breathes in sharply. "Put me wherever you want me," he says, enraptured by the idea.

Eliot grunts, releasing his hold on Quentin's chest to sit up, gripping at his hips, fucking into him steadily, then faster, and even faster as his breath starts coming in short little gasps, and then Quentin can _feel_ him tense, moments before he moans out his release, sinking in and coming.

The warmth of Eliot's come filling him up is nearly overwhelming, _fuck_ , getting even better the longer Eliot stays buried inside him. _Oh god_ , this is why he can't allow himself to do this very often. He's hooked on it; he can't wait to feel it slide out of him. He has no idea if Eliot will find that hot or just depraved, but he doesn't care. He's at the fuck festival and he finally convinced his best friend to fuck him; he deserves this.

Eliot eases his hips back down before he pulls out, and Quentin jumps slightly when he feels the press of Eliot's lips against his back. He turns over before Eliot can try to do a cleaning spell and pulls him on top of him, between his splayed legs, into a lazy yet enthusiastic kiss. He moans a little as Eliot's come starts to leak out, the slide of it ridiculously sexy. Eliot twists his fingers into Quentin's hair and kisses back with a sudden fervor, like Quentin has flipped a switch in him.

They break away, panting, and Quentin can do nothing but stare up at Eliot and his blissful expression.

"Wow," Eliot says, grinning. The sun reflects off his eyes and highlights the gold in them; Quentin can't look away. "You've been holding out on me, I think." He untwists his fingers from Quentin's hair, smoothing out the strands as his expression turns more serious. "That was amazing."

"Yeah," Quentin says shakily. "I'm uh, I'm glad… we could do that." God, has he lost the ability to speak? He cringes, feeling like an idiot. "I mean, I've been wanting to."

"Yeah?" Eliot says, his smile edging back onto his face. "Me too. Leave it to Encanto to give us the right circumstances."

"Right," Quentin says. He doesn't know how to ask if this was a one-time thing.

Eliot lifts himself off of Quentin, sitting back on his knees, his eyes widening when he sees what's sure to be a mess of his come leaking from Quentin's hole. The expression is there and gone in a moment, but Quentin can see the interest there. "I should clean us up—" Eliot begins, but Quentin cuts him off.

"No, don't. Not yet."

And then the interest is back, even more intense now. Eliot reaches out to place his hand on Quentin's chest, running it over him slowly, across his belly, avoiding his spent cock to rest on his thigh. "Fuck, Q. You're so fucking sexy."

It's not something he's used to hearing, but he's never felt sexier than he has on this trip. Maybe his problem finding people all these years was not knowing where to look, or—more likely—not looking with confidence. And, a small, cruel voice reminds him, he's not likely to find anything like this with a relationship to go with it. Sure, he can pay a bunch of money for a sex fesitval and get more than sufficiently laid all weekend, but that doesn't mean he'll have anyone to wake up with come Monday.

But god, why is he dwelling on that right now? Eliot— _the_ Eliot Waugh is looking down at him like he's a prize he's won. He can enjoy this while it lasts. He sits up, curling his body into Eliot's, thrilling at the way Eliot holds him close.

"We should go back to the room for a while," Quentin suggests. "I could go for a nap." And maybe a chance to replay the last hour on loop in his head so he never forgets a detail.

A little reluctantly, he does the tut for the cleaning spell, then forces himself to stand on shaky legs. Eliot's hand goes to his back as they return to the beach chairs to retrieve their suits, and Quentin can't help but feel proud to be seen this way, _with_ Eliot.

He takes a shower before his nap, and comes back out to find Eliot already dozing, shamelessly naked with a sheet barely covering his legs. He's tempted, for a moment, to climb in with him. There's plenty of room. But he doesn't want to overstep his bounds and make the whole thing uncomfortable. He crawls under the covers of his bed and watches Eliot for a second, wondering what he can say to get another round with him.

He wakes up suddenly, some time later, pulled out of a dream where he was falling, he thinks, with Eliot watching from below. Waiting to catch him, maybe? He shakes it off, rubbing at his eyes as he kicks away the covers, and looks over at Eliot in the dim light.

Eliot is still asleep, presumably, but whatever he's dreaming about has got him at least partially awake, his cock curving up over his hip. The sight of it has Quentin's own dick stirring, and he remembers that the pill was indeed supposed to last _all day_. Fuck.

But _oh_ , it feels nice when he gets a hand on himself, stroking lazily as he replays the memory of Eliot sliding into him, holding him, jerking him off. He briefly considers putting up the privacy ward, but decides to be bold and leave it down, where he can see Eliot and maybe soon, Eliot can see him. He's still not sure what will happen when this trip is over, if things will be awkward, or if they'll pretend that nothing happened. But while he's here he intends to take every opportunity he's granted. He licks his lips at the memory of Eliot's kiss, pumping his cock and thinking of Eliot's tongue. His breath catches when he hears Eliot start to stir, but after a moment's hesitation, he keeps going.

"Mm," Eliot says, stretching loudly. "Not to sound like every bad porno your parents watched, but you want some help with that?"

Quentin feels a little thrill of excitement to have caught Eliot's attention again. "Only if you promise never to say anything about my parents while I have my hand on my cock again."

Eliot laughs through his nose, standing up and tutting the lamp on. "Deal." He stretches again while Quentin watches unrepentantly. Next thing Quentin knows, Eliot is climbing on top of him, his body pinning Quentin to the sheets as he lowers down and kisses him.

 _Fuck_ , he's glad Eliot is so into kissing. Every time he's seen him flirting with someone, there's always touching and weighted looks, but before this weekend he's never seen him kiss anyone but Mike, the ill-fated boyfriend from last semester.

This kiss is as languid as Quentin's hand had been on his dick, slow and sweet like molasses; perfect for the transition of afternoon into evening. He can feel Eliot's dick against his leg, thickening as their kiss gets deeper and their hands roam further. Pretty soon they're grinding against each other, breathing heavily against each other's mouths until Eliot pushes himself up. He takes a deep breath and shoots Quentin a wink before sliding down the bed, pushing Quentin's legs apart and licking a stripe along his cock.

"Oh, _fuck_ , El," Quentin says, sliding his fingers through his curls. Eliot grins up at him before taking his cock in hand, running his tongue along one side of it, then the other. He laps at the head until Quentin whines, and then he _finally_ , god, pulls his cock into his mouth.

It's all wet and hot sensations after that, Quentin fighting not to rock into Eliot's mouth, trying to make himself last even though his _ridiculously hot_ best friend is getting him off, _again_. He feels even louder this time, with his moans echoing off the walls of the room, making him extra aware of how desperate he sounds.

And then—dear god—Eliot sinks down further, taking him to the back of his throat, and simultaneously slides a slick finger inside him. _Fuck, fuck_ , when had he had a chance to do that spell? "Oh fuck, _fuck_ ," Quentin realizes he's saying out loud, "El, I'm gonna come, you're gonna make me—!"

His words morph into a moan as he comes down Eliot's throat, his body jerking with the intensity of his orgasm. _God_ , Eliot is unreal.

"Holy shit, El," Quentin says as Eliot pulls off. He smiles giddily down at him, at his dazed look. "Come up here so I can return the favor."

Eliot shakes his head, even as he moves back up the bed. "No need. Your excited noises were a little _too_ exciting. Don't worry, I know a better cleaning spell than normal for sheets."

"You came while you were sucking me off?" Quentin asks, bewildered. Eliot just shrugs, and Quentin dives on him, trying to convey in his kiss just how hot that is.

He feels a little better as they head out for the night. If it's happened twice, it can probably happen again. Maybe tonight, after whoever they find at the bonfire, if the pill's still working. For now, he's incredibly fucked out, happy to pile his plate full at the buffet and just relax for a while.

Eliot is right there with him, taking his time with dinner and explaining how the chefs here just get it _right_. Quentin has no idea what he's talking about most of the time, but he appreciates the enthusiasm. All around them, a magical snow drifts from the ceiling despite the warmth of the room, evaporating before it gets to any people or food.

They wind up in the same dim-bannered area as the night before, after Eliot claims, "They honestly have the better bonfire." It's no problem to Quentin, who enjoys the slight chill of the air and, for once, keeping his clothes on. He and Eliot find a group dancing together, nobody groping each other, just enjoying the music and the fire and the air. It's the least awkward Quentin thinks he's ever felt dancing, catching Eliot's grin every so often.

They wind up back in each other's arms eventually, swaying to softer music, and the intimacy of it makes Quentin's heart squeeze in his chest. "Thank you, again. For inviting me. I think this was exactly the break I needed."

Eliot's smile is wistful. "Yeah. Encanto is good for that. Nothing like a few good orgasms to get the mind calm."

Quentin laughs. "Yeah, I guess. But not just that. It's nice to just—get away. A proper vacation. And a chance to see magic used for fun and entertainment instead of just theory and ' _practical applications_ '."

That gets a genuine smile from Eliot. "Better not let Professor March hear you say it that way," he says, twirling them around. "I'm glad you're enjoying it. Margo was jealous she couldn't join us."

"Oh man, I bet Margo _thrives_ when she's here."

Eliot nods emphatically. "You wouldn't believe how well."

They drink and dance and laugh together until Quentin is too tired to keep up. He takes a break on one of the log benches that feels more like a plush couch, pulling his legs up next to him.

"Quentin," he hears in a surprised tone, and turns to see the guy from last night. Charlie. "You're back."

Quentin shoots him a friendly smile. It feels like a lifetime ago that Charlie had jerked him off. "Charlie, hi. How's it going?"

"Not bad," Charlie says, grinning as he drops down next to Quentin. "You?"

"Pretty amazing, actually," Quentin says, his eyes finding Eliot easily, effervescent in his skinny trousers and lilac button-up amongst the crowd.

"Ah," Charlie says, standing up again. "Well, it was good to see you, Quentin."

Quentin blinks, confused, but Charlie is already gone, off in pursuit of someone else. He would've been happy to talk some more, even if he's a little too tired to hook up. Oh well. He hopes Charlie finds what he's looking for.

Eliot joins him a few songs later, sweat dripping on his brow. He's got a new flower crown tonight, but this one doesn't light up.

"Where are you getting these?" Quentin asks, straightening it over his curls.

"Have you not seen her?" Eliot asks, surprised. He points across the field, at a green lady dressed in earth tones. "M'alia. She's a dryad. I'm sure she'd be happy to give you one, if you offer her a dance."

"She's an _actual_ dryad?" Quentin says, his eyes widening. "I thought that was a costume."

Eliot laughs, pushing him to standing. "Go get yourself a flower crown, Q."

M'alia happily accepts his bumbling request to dance, and she moves with such grace that Quentin steps on his own feet in awe of her. She seems delighted by him, though, and grows him a crown twice as elaborate as Eliot's.

"She's amazing," Quentin asks when he returns to Eliot's side, sinking down in exhaustion and leaning into him.

"I told you." He reaches up to touch the cyclamen closest to him. "You must have really charmed her. She usually saves the cyclamens for her favorites."

"I barely said anything," he says, glancing up into Eliot's face.

"Guess you're just that charming," Eliot says softly, his lips parting as he leans in further.

This kiss is entirely different from the others they've shared. For one, they're not turned on—at least not yet—so there's no urgency, just a soft press of the lips. Even when Quentin parts his lips and Eliot's tongue sweeps inside, it feels gentle, almost tentative. Quentin decides to at least negate that last part, shuffling around so he can deepen the kiss, letting himself pretend for a moment that Eliot's his boyfriend, and they're enjoying a private moment on their vacation together. Eliot whimpers slightly and reaches for his jaw, pouring Quentin's passion right back into the kiss, making him shudder at the intensity.

"We should go back to our room," Quentin says when they break away, licking his lips.

"Yeah," Eliot says, dropping his hand. "It's getting late."

"Not too late," Quentin says pointedly, resting his hand on Eliot's thigh.

"Oh," Eliot says, blinking down at Quentin's hand. Now it's his turn to lick his lips. "Yeah, we should head back."

Quentin smiles the whole way back, as Eliot leads him by the hand, as if he doesn't know the way. They fall into Eliot's bed, making out like teenagers, stripping out of their clothes haphazardly. "Want me to suck you off again?" Eliot asks, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Eventually, maybe," Quentin says, watching the grin falter. "I wanna suck you first."

He pushes at Eliot so he can switch their positions, getting Eliot on his back and shifting down, but Eliot stops him with a firm grip on his shoulders. "Wait, Q."

Quentin freezes. "What's wrong?"

Eliot's brows draw together. "You don't have to do this."

"Of course not," Quentin says, kissing Eliot's shoulder. "But I want to."

Still, Eliot doesn't let go of him. "Why don't you let me get you off first."

"Why? So you can get yourself off again before I even get a chance to touch you?" Quentin says, slightly annoyed. "I can't believe you're arguing with me about this. Unless… if you don't want it from me, you can just tell me."

Eliot's grip on his shoulders gentles. "Look, I think that pill's having a stronger effect on you than it should. It's making you think you want more than you do."

"I'm horny, not mindfucked," Quentin says, rolling his eyes. "And this is nothing I wouldn't have done yesterday, if I'd known you wanted it." Eliot stares at him, his lips parting. "Did I do something, anything, to make you think I didn't want everything we did earlier?"

"Well… no, but—"

"But nothing. Josh knows what he's about. The drug did what it's supposed to—it made the want a little stronger, but it didn't change _who_ I want. Now will you let me suck your dick?"

Eliot's answering grin looks slightly incredulous. "Yeah, okay. If you insist."

Truth be told, Quentin is a little touched to know Eliot was looking out for him. Magic has fucked with him before in bizarre ways. But he knows his own mind, and he _definitely_ wants this.

As he kneels between Eliot's legs, he flicks out his wrist and does the tut to pull moisture from the air, slicking up his fingers. He strokes Eliot's cock firmly, watching the pleasure light up his face as Quentin brings him fully hard again. _God_ , his dick looks so good in his hand. He can't wait to put his mouth on him. He shuffles his body into a more comfortable position and wraps his lips around the head, sucking tentatively, his own cock twitching when Eliot moans softly. He pulls off, taking his time exploring the full length of Eliot's dick with his tongue and one hand while the other cups his balls.

"Q," Eliot breathes, his beautiful fingers rubbing against Quentin's scalp and making him hum in pleasure. "Fuck, your tongue is amazing."

When he pulls Eliot's dick into his mouth properly, taking as much as he can, Eliot's fingers constrict in his hair, so good it makes him moan. He thinks back to that one guy from the bright zone earlier—Zach—and what it seemed like Eliot liked from him. He tries to mimic what he remembers, a lot of attention to Eliot's cockhead, but before long he's cluing in to Eliot's moans and trying new things, keeping a steady grip on Eliot's cock with his hand at the same time so that he's always got something to push up against.

"You are— _fuck_ , unfairly good at this. Well, only unfair because— _ahh_ , because I didn't get to experience it until today. Oh fuck that feels good."

Quentin's body sings with the praise. He can see how easy it might have been for Eliot to get off sucking him earlier. He thinks if he had a hand on his own dick right now he'd probably be close to the edge pretty quickly.

Eliot's encouraging words devolve into unintelligible noises before long, as Quentin works him over, which is just as hot. Eliot's thighs tense, tightening around him moments before Eliot moans out a warning. Quentin lowers a finger to rub against his perineum as he continues to suck, and Eliot calls out, " _Fuck_ , Q, _yes_ —" before spilling over his tongue.

Once Eliot's body seems to relax, Quentin pulls off, feeling absurdly proud when he sees how fucked out Eliot looks. When Eliot beckons for him, he stretches out next to him on the bed, letting himself be pulled close and kissed so thoroughly that his toes curl.

"You're incredible," Eliot says warmly, his eyes half-lidded. "Now can I get you off? How do you want it?"

"Doesn't matter. Whatever you do will be good," he says honestly. He could just rub up against Eliot's hip and come right here, probably. But Eliot seems to have something else in mind.

"Turn over," he says, his eyes dancing. Quentin rolls onto his stomach, excitement thrumming through him despite the fact that he can't see Eliot. "Tuck your knees in for me?" Eliot asks, and after Quentin does, his ass rising in the air, he feels the strange chill of the cleaning spell washing through him. Eliot massages his ass, pulling his cheeks apart and squeezing, his fingers tempting close to Quentin's hole but never quite reaching it. "So far so good?" Eliot asks.

"Yeah," Quentin says shakily. "Keep going."

There's movement behind him, making Quentin wonder what Eliot is up to as he parts his cheeks again, and then instead of the slick finger he's expecting, it's Eliot's _tongue_ , warm and wet and _perfect_ against his hole.

Quentin shouts, grabbing at the pillow in front of him and pulling it close. He feels more than hears Eliot laugh against his skin. Eliot keeps going, licking over him and _into_ him, deeper than Quentin would have expected, until he's so turned on he feels like he's vibrating. Eliot slides in a finger alongside his tongue, his touch electrifying, and Quentin muffles his sobs into the pillow as he starts to leak onto the sheets.

"You ready to come?" Eliot asks. Quentin whines. "I can make you come, but you've gotta lose the pillow. I wanna hear you."

 _Jesus fuck_. He pushes the pillow aside and squirms a little, with Eliot's finger still inside him. "Pillow is lost. It's dead to me. Please, El."

Eliot's laugh makes him smile, even through his haze of lust. When Eliot's tongue pushes inside him again, his other hand comes forward to pump Quentin's dick. Quentin moans, his body writhing as he tries to push into both sensations, but Eliot keeps up with him perfectly until he crests over the edge. He shakes through his orgasm, whimpering, tears leaking from his eyes onto the sheets. He doesn't know why he's so suddenly overwhelmed, but it feels cathartic, like he's released some burden he'd been unknowingly holding onto.

He reaches up to rub the tears from his eyes as Eliot pulls out, his hand sliding up to cup Quentin's hip gently. Quentin clears his throat to test his voice, and then laughs. "I hope you don't mind doing that spell to clean the sheets again."

Eliot nudges at him to turn over, away from the wet spot. His grin is incandescent when Quentin looks up at him. "We could always sleep in your bed," he says, "but no, I don't mind."

"We definitely could," Quentin says quickly, in case that was a question. He sits up, leaning into Eliot, needing to kiss him, to be held by him.

In the end, they fall asleep in Eliot's bed, freshly charmed clean as they return from the shower together. Quentin sleeps better than he has in ages.

***

The next day, Quentin is satisfied to take it easy, knowing that he's gotten more from this trip than he ever could have hoped for. Waking up in Eliot's arms is enough to keep him smiling throughout the day, even if Eliot only pressed a kiss to his temple before quickly extricating himself and shutting himself into the bathroom alone.

They eat breakfast in the room, and Quentin spends the next couple of hours lounging, reading his book, occasionally remarking that Eliot should go out if he wants, if he's bored. But Eliot insists he's got plenty to keep him entertained and focuses on his phone. Quentin decides to take him at his word and enjoy the relaxation time, because god knows he won't get any once his second term at Brakebills starts.

They go to the main buffet for lunch, where an honest-to-god magic show is taking place. Quentin is delighted, watching how real magic combines with traditional sleight of hand to create elaborate illusions and misdirections.

He's having an amazing time when a stranger approaches Eliot, calling him by name. "I'm here with someone," Eliot says shortly, but that doesn't seem to deter the guy.

"I see that," the guy says, his eyes cutting over to Quentin. "Hi, cutie. I'm Mark."

Quentin darts his gaze between Eliot and Mark, starting to lift his hand for a handshake out of politeness, but he releases Mark's hand quickly when he sees Eliot's frown.

"And he's with me. My watch should tell you I'm not interested."

Quentin blinks at that. Eliot's watch is showing bright green for him. Maybe Eliot's set it to not match with people he's hooked up with on previous visits.

"Yours might, but _his_ doesn't," Mark says, shifting his cool gaze to Quentin. "You wanna ditch this drama queen and have a good time?"

Eliot's face goes blank as he turns back to his lunch. Quentin frowns, still a little stuck on the watch thing. "No, thanks. My idea of a good time doesn't involve insulting my friends. You should watch the show, it's pretty cool." Mark huffs and storms off.

Eliot smiles into his drink. "You could have gone with him, you know. He's not bad at giving head."

Quentin rolls his eyes. "I'm not going off with someone who was rude to you. What, do you have him blacklisted or something? Should I do that too?"

"You can't blacklist individual people, unfortunately, unless you have enough to report them. Sadly, being a bitch isn't enough."

"So why does your watch show no interest for him?"

"Oh," Eliot says, staring down at his wrist in surprise. Quentin half-expects him to mention a kink they no longer align on or something, but the longer Eliot goes without answering, the less sure he is. "Well, I guess there's sort of a way to blacklist people. In larger groups."

"Okay," Quentin says slowly. "Shouldn't I do that too, then? What group?"

"Don't worry about it. It's just a personal preference thing. Nothing you need to worry about."

Quentin squints at him, but Eliot cheerfully moves back to their previous conversation about the applications of magic in card tricks, and it doesn't take long for Quentin to get distracted.

They head to the sauna after lunch, where Quentin leans back against the wall (and maybe a little against Eliot's shoulder) and lets himself fully relax, the heat settling him in a way he wouldn't have expected. He suspects magic is involved.

He blinks his eyes open when he feels a hand on his thigh, and realizes he must have dozed off. What's more of a surprise, though, is that the hand doesn't belong to Eliot, but to someone new, a lanky guy who brightens when Quentin meets his gaze.

"Sorry to startle you," the guy says in a thick Australian accent. "I was sitting at the other end and once the steam cleared, I couldn't keep my eyes off you."

"Oh," Quentin says, a little sleep-addled. "Hi. I'm Quentin."

"Oliver," he replies with a blinding grin.

Next to him, Eliot is stirring, moving away from Quentin's shoulder and pulling Quentin's attention with him. "I'll see you later tonight," Eliot says quickly, reaching out to squeeze at his arm. "Have fun."

"El," Quentin says, frowning as he walks away.

"Just let him go," Oliver says. "Me and my mates were talking— apparently he's got exclusivity turned on. Don't understand why those blokes even come 'round here, to be honest."

"He's got what?" Quentin says, pulling away from this stranger with the dazzling teeth. He can't focus on anything but Eliot right now, and the sadness he'd seen behind his eyes right before he'd turned away. "Sorry, I have to go."

He clutches his towel around his waist as he fast-walks back to the locker room, hoping Eliot stopped long enough to dress before heading back out again.

Luck seems to be on his side this one time, as Eliot is just pulling his clothes from a locker, his towel slung over the locker door when Quentin finds him. He can't help but stare at Eliot's ass even as he rushes to his side.

"Q," Eliot says, looking at him with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Quentin is well aware of how sweaty and manic he probably looks at the moment, but he doesn't care. "What does exclusivity mean in this case, and what does it mean for us?"

Eliot swallows, looking vulnerable for a moment before a thin veneer slips down, masking his emotions. "It's just a setting, Q."

"I still see you as a match, though," Quentin says, nodding toward his wrist. "Does that mean…?" He trails off, unable to finish the question on the off-chance that he's wrong here.

Eliot purses his lips. "I only had two of those pills. I wasn't going to waste an orgasm on some random hookup if you wanted to hook up again."

Quentin laughs, disbelieving. "Since when do you think any orgasm is a waste?"

But _oh_ , Eliot's gaze is piercing as it hits Quentin. "Since I found out how good it is with you."

It's like all the air has gone out of the room. "Oh," Quentin manages, shifting on his feet. "You… um, you could have just _told_ me that. I could've changed my watch too."

"I didn't want to pressure you into anything. This is your first time here. You could hook up with me any day."

 _Could_ he? This is news to Quentin. "I don't mind," he says, his voice small. His heart is beating so strongly in his chest he's sure Eliot can hear it. He flips the watch face up toward him and goes through the motions of updating his profile. There it is, a setting about exclusivity. Wow, they make it sound so official. There's even a second confirmation, though he figures that's probably more so you don't tag the wrong John Smith than second-guessing your exclusivity. "There. Done."

Eliot moves into his space a moment later, one hand sliding into his hair and the other moving across his back, pulling him in tight while Eliot kisses him. Quentin laughs, a little surprised to be kissed so suddenly, but still into it. His towel falls as his hands move over Eliot's body, but he can hardly complain.

"C'mon, let's go waste an orgasm together," Quentin says, and Eliot pinches him on the ass as soon as he turns away.

***

Their trek back to their room is fraught with breaks to kiss and grope at each other, but eventually they get there, in their own private space where no one can interrupt.

Quentin is so giddy he's practically shaking as they fall onto Eliot's bed together. They've already done so much in the past 24 hours, but the energy is different now. Every touch of Eliot's fingers feels like a brand against his skin. His kiss is full of promise, rich with things to come, and Quentin can't get enough.

Their lips barely leave each other as Eliot works him open, leaning over him with his arm reaching down between Quentin's splayed legs. Quentin whines into Eliot's mouth, and Eliot drinks in every sound like it's the sweetest ambrosia he's ever tasted.

When he feels ready—if he'll ever really _be_ ready—Quentin asks, "D'you want me to flip over?"

"No," Eliot says fiercely. "I want you like this," he elaborates, shifting and settling between Quentin's legs to further prove his point.

"Yeah," Quentin agrees, already transfixed at the sight of Eliot there, his cock curving up toward his belly as he summons more lube and slicks it over his length. He lines himself up against Quentin's entrance, and Quentin tries to convince his body to relax, but he's thrumming with anticipation. Eliot reaches out with his other hand, seeking out Quentin's, and in the next moment their fingers are laced together.

"Tell me how you're feeling," Eliot says, and Quentin almost says something sarcastic, so distracted as he is by his eagerness for Eliot to get inside him. But he catches Eliot's eye and sees that this isn't some idle request; Eliot really wants to know.

"I'm, um, kinda feeling a lot right now. How much do you want to know?"

"All of it," Eliot says, rubbing the head of his dick along Quentin's cleft, not yet pushing inside.

Quentin takes a deep breath and wills himself to focus. "Okay, well, um. Really fucking turned on. You might have noticed. And uh, lucky? That's probably not the right word. _Oh god_ ," he says as Eliot begins to push his way inside. He's definitely more relaxed now, though, distracted with parsing out his words for Eliot. "But yeah, lucky. That I got to come—I mean, be here with you. And finally—oh, _fuck_ —finally be _with_ you. God, I have wanted this so much, El."

Eliot squeezes his hand in his as he continues to inch inside, filling Quentin up. "If I had known—"

"I know. Me too." Quentin shudders. "Fuck, but this is kinda perfect? I don't know if I'd have had the courage to ask for what I wanted, if I didn't have all these people around, making me feel at ease, even sexy."

"You _are_ sexy," Eliot says emphatically, pulling out and then pushing back in a little further. "I can't believe you don't see it."

Quentin feels his face heat. Of course he's not embarrassed by a cock in his ass, but the moment he receives a compliment on his _looks_ , from _Eliot_ of all people, his face is on fire. "Well I definitely see _you_ , and you're like, the epitome of sexy."

He hears Eliot laugh, but it's a bit strained, and suddenly Quentin has to lift up onto his elbows to see Eliot's face properly. He looks utterly wrecked, his bottom lip tucked tightly under his teeth until Quentin relaxes enough to take him in to the root, and he opens his mouth in a deep moan.

" _Jesus_ , El," Quentin says, dropping his head back and arching his back, rolling his hips to feel Eliot so _deep_ within him.

"Q," Eliot says, sounding desperate in the single syllable. He shifts, bringing their joined hands up and bracing the other next to his shoulder, suddenly hovering above Quentin with his heated gaze and open mouth.

"Oh my god, _please_ fuck me," Quentin says.

Eliot swallows, and Quentin watches his Adam's apple bob for a moment before Eliot's hips move, his cock sliding out of Quentin, and then— _fuck_ , back in, a perfect friction lighting up his nerve endings so much that he's quickly overwhelmed as Eliot works up a rhythm.

Eliot leans down to meet him in a sloppy kiss, which Quentin returns with feeling, his free hand gripping Eliot's shoulder. Eventually, when they're both so lost to pleasure that their lips are barely brushing, Eliot tilts their foreheads together, fucking into him with sure, even strokes as their hands grip at each other so tightly that Quentin's joints ache.

"I wanna feel you come inside me," Quentin says, heedless of how needy he sounds.

" _Fuck_ , Q," Eliot says, nearly breathless. "Nobody lets me fuck them like you do."

Quentin doesn't know exactly what that means, but he loves hearing it. "Yeah, c'mon," he encourages, pushing back into Eliot's thrusts until he can feel the tension in Eliot's thighs, the stutter in his movements that means he's right on the edge. "That's it, I want it," he says, and Eliot moans so loudly that it pings off of their wards, echoing as Eliot spills inside of him.

Quentin stays as still as he can manage, working his hips just a little as Eliot's breath evens out. Finally, he takes a sharp breath in, saying, " _Fuck_ , Q, I was so far gone I didn't even _touch_ you—"

"It's really okay," Quentin says as Eliot shifts his weight and gets his hand around his dick, giving him something to fuck up into as he chases his release. "Yeah, _yeah_ , stay inside me—oh fuck, _Eliot_ ," he moans as Eliot's hand works him over, stroking him until he topples over the edge.

Tears prick at his eyes as he comes, feeling like he's surrendering something as he spills over Eliot's fist. He feels wrung out in the best way, clenching down involuntarily over Eliot's cock and watching the movement affect Eliot's expression. The giddiness is back, suddenly, even as he blinks and the tears streak down toward his hair.

"You okay?" Eliot asks, brows drawing together in concern.

"Yeah, very okay. Just a little overwhelmed."

Eliot wipes his tears away, letting go of Quentin's hand to card his fingers through his hair before leaning down and kissing him intently.

"Is it okay if I pull out?" Eliot asks softly, and Quentin gasps, elated at the fact that Eliot _gets him_.

"Yeah, just— slow?" And _fuck_ , even the drag out of him is good, and before long, Quentin can feel Eliot's come dribbling out of him, onto the sheets.

"You like that, huh?" Eliot says, bewildered, his thumb pressing against Quentin's rim as Quentin moans through closed lips.

"Feels good," Quentin finally manages, his lips tilting up into a smile. "Sorry for ruining your sheets again."

"Don't be." Eliot sweeps his gaze over Quentin, warming him without even touching him. "I kind of want to leave it like this. We can sleep in your bed tonight."

The realization hits him then, that sharing a bed is a foregone conclusion. Quentin sits up, grinning uncontrollably.

"What?" Eliot says, grinning back.

"Nothing. I'm just—" Quentin reaches out to rest a hand on his chest, "—really into you."

"Oh," Eliot says, delighted. "Well, likewise."

They lean into each other, kissing for an interminable amount of time. Quentin floats through it, feeling so incredibly sated that his mind has little room for anything else.

Of course, that can never last, and eventually doubt starts to creep in. Eliot pulls out of their kiss, pressing his thumb between Quentin's brows and asking, "What is it?"

Quentin swallows. "What happens when we get home?" Eliot looks concerned, and Quentin barrels forward. "I mean, there's no exclusivity watches at Brakebills."

Eliot hums, his lips quirking into a poorly concealed grin. "It's probably a little too early for rings, though."

Quentin chokes, then tries to turn it into a laugh. Despite his mirth, Eliot's eyes look serious. "Oh my god, are you—? Do you want to be exclusive with me? Like, dating? Boyfriends?"

His excited tone gives him away, he knows, but he doesn't mind showing his hand when it makes Eliot laugh so happily. "Yes, Q. Exclusively dating boyfriends. We can waste all our orgasms together."

Quentin climbs into his lap, his skin buzzing with excitement and Eliot's arms go around him immediately. "They're not wasted when they're with me, remember?"

"Hard to forget," Eliot says, palming at his ass as he leans in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love! <3


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